


Help Me Hold On To You

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Deception, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-07-20 09:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: She had seen someone who looked so much like Logan that she had almost crashed her car that afternoon leaving the office.It had just been for a moment, so quickly that it was very likely a trick of the sun or even an unfortunate side-effect of the day-old burrito she’d eaten for lunch, but it had been so real. A split-second image that left her heart beating double time in her chest, that brought the pain and unbearable longing she’d spent the better part of two years quashing instead rearing its ugly head.Part of her argued that she would know that face anywhere, that she would recognize those eyes, that smile, even in just a glance.The bigger part of her was busy rolling its eyes.It might be cute, imagining she was seeing her dead husband, if it weren’t so fucking boring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/gifts).



> I said that I was just going to write the one fix-it fic for this fandom and then be done, but, well... Here we are.
> 
> My outline predicts this will be 6 chapters but one never knows. My aim is to update this weekly but sometimes life has other ideas so. We'll see.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

_ Another day, another night spent sitting in my car outside of the last remaining no-tell motel in the 90909 zip code. Turns out even the richest guys in town need somewhere to take their mistresses. _

_ Or misters. It is 2019, after all, and we at Mars Investigations don’t judge. We just want the money shot. _

_ I’d been at the charmingly named Octopus’s Garden Inn twice already this week, and the third night was shaping up to be the same. Different guy, different woman, same wham, bam, thank you ma’am captured by my camera. _

_ So predictable it was almost boring. But it paid the bills. _

_ Of course, I didn’t really need the money now. Turns out there are some serious perks to marrying a Naval officer and the death benefits are definitely one of them. _

_ Logan was worth more to the Navy dead than alive. On truly bleak nights, I had the bad tendency of wondering the same. _

_ Did Logan mean more to me because he was dead? _

_ I guess I’d never know. _

Veronica shook her head to try and clear it of the errant thought about Logan and lifted the camera to peer through the viewfinder, waiting for her target to reveal himself. “Come on,” she murmured, watching the curtain next to the door twitch. “C’mon, I want to at least try to get some sleep tonight.”

Not that she’d probably be able to, but she was pretty sure lying in bed staring at the ceiling was better for her back than sitting hunched in her car.

Still, as she waited, she couldn’t help but think of Logan again, in the vague sort of way that almost didn’t hurt anymore. The way that barely squeezed her chest so tight she felt like she couldn’t breathe, the way that barely caused tears to well in her eyes, blurring her view of the money shot she was aiming for.

She was stubborn enough to think that she should be over it by now, despite the fact that it hadn’t even been two years yet, despite the fact that everyone assured her there was no timeline to grief. What was the point in grieving when she couldn’t change anything?

When Lilly died, at least Veronica had that whole ‘solving her rmurder’ thing to distract her. 

Now she just had rich assholes who all apparently had the same taste in shitty motels and cheating on their wives.

But even without a proper distraction, the thing that had brought Logan to the forefront of her mind, or at least to the thing lingering in the background like an itch she needed to scratch, was the fact that she had seen him.

Well, not him, obviously, because of the whole dead thing.

But she had seen someone who looked so much like him that she had almost crashed her car that afternoon leaving the office. 

It had just been for a moment, so quickly that it was very likely a trick of the sun or even an unfortunate side-effect of the day-old burrito she’d eaten for lunch, but it had been  _ so _ real. A split-second image that left her heart beating double time in her chest, that brought the pain and unbearable longing she’d spent the better part of two years quashing instead rearing its ugly head.

Part of her argued that she would know that face anywhere, that she would recognize those eyes, that smile, even in just a glance.

The bigger part of her was busy rolling its eyes. 

It might be cute, imagining she was seeing her dead husband, if it weren’t so fucking boring. Expected. Pedestrian.

“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, adjusting her grip on the camera, and just in time, too, as the door to the motel room opened. “Finally.”

She snapped a flurry of shots, the gentleman in question seemingly unable to stop himself from sneaking one last, lingering kiss, and Veronica quashed the sudden jealousy that coursed through her.

She had been robbed of that one last kiss.

But she sure as shit wasn’t going to be robbed of the perfect picture to nail this asshole.

“Bingo,” she murmured, taking a few more pictures for good measure before tossing her camera onto the passenger seat. “Time to go home.”

She eased her car away from the curb, the neon lighting of the Octopus’s Garden Inn sign reflecting in her rear view mirror, and she glanced at it almost automatically.

She took her eyes off the road for at most a second but it was apparently enough for her to almost miss the dark sedan that had apparently decided stop signs were more of a suggestion. “Shit,” she swore, slamming on her brakes, the squeal of her tires splitting the usually quiet night. “What the fuck!” she shouted at the car, which didn’t so much as slow down as it barreled on its way, and she slumped in her seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

“Keep it together, Veronica,” she said out loud, taking a few deep breaths before continuing on her drive home.

Seemed like she could kiss even the idea of sleep goodbye.

But by the time she got home, her heart rate had mostly returned to normal, and she let herself into her apartment with only the usual cursory check for intruders instead of a full, room-by-room sweep like she did on nights when she was feeling particularly paranoid. 

Sure, she hoped Pony would alert her to anyone sniffing around who shouldn’t be, but as much as she loved the dog that Logan had adopted for her, she had to admit he was occasionally too friendly for his own good.

Something Veronica had never once been accused of.

“You hungry?” she asked Pony after she had dropped her bag on the floor and plugged her camera in to download the pictures from the night. Pony just gave her a hopeful look and she laughed lightly as she refilled his kibble bowl, Pony practically knocking her over as he rushed to his food, his tail thumping against the ground.

As he gorged himself, Veronica opened the refrigerator, her nose wrinkling at the assorted leftovers in varying degrees of ‘should definitely be thrown out’, and she closed the refrigerator door, glancing almost longingly at the stove, remembering the way Logan would always have something waiting for her if she was working late.

“Ugh,” she said out loud, rolling her eyes at herself.

She was being ridiculous. As if Logan hadn’t been gone more often than not, those dinners few and far between. She was romanticizing something that had been pretty imperfect, if she relied on actual memory and not just wishful thinking.

Besides, the entire point of the new apartment — besides the fact that their old place was bought out by the seaside developers — was that it wouldn’t remind her of Logan. There were no photos of him hung on the walls — those were all stacked in boxes and put in storage until she’d be ready to deal with them, if she’d ever be ready to deal with them. His clothes were no longer folded in the dresser, his uniform no longer hung in the closet.

She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat at a table Logan had never sat at, stared at a front door Logan had never walked through. In fifteen minutes when she would inevitably give up on pretending to eat her cereal, she would lie down in a bed in which Logan had never laid.

And that was the fucking point.

It was supposed to be easier this way, with no reminders.

It was supposed to let her forget, for however brief a time, that her husband had been murdered, that she was now alone. Again. Forever.

So why couldn’t she get Logan out of her head? Why, after all this time, could she imagine him sprawled out on the couch or reheating dinner for her at the stove, dinner he’d bring on a plate and set in front of her while bending down to kiss her forehead and—

The spoon fell from Veronica’s hand with a clatter and she jerked upright, shaking her head to clear it. Pony let out a whimper and Veronica glanced down at him, forcing a smile. “Sorry,” she said, reaching down to scratch the top of his head. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

She bent to pick up her spoon and made a face at the bowl of cereal that was now unquestionably soggy, and she made her way to the sink to dump it out. She set the bowl in the sink and braced herself on the kitchen counter, closing her eyes and counting to ten, taking a deep breath as she did.

It was a technique Logan’s therapist had recommended, something that was supposed to help her relax.

Like most things the therapist had told her, it seemed like bullshit.

After a long moment, she exhaled and straightened, ready to go face another night of tossing and turning in bed, when she froze at the sound of a knock on the door.

On instinct alone and without hesitation, Veronica crouched down, out of the line of sight from the windows, and carefully made her way to where she had dropped her bag after getting home, reaching into it and taking out her gun. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her ears that she almost didn’t hear when the knock sounded again, a little louder this time.

She had no idea who would be at her door this early in the morning.

The only thing she knew is that whoever it was, it was bound to be trouble.

Slowly, carefully, she stood, gun in one hand, and she slunk to the door, keeping to the shadows. She glanced back at Pony, who hadn’t moved from his spot under the table, before gripping the doorknob with her free hand.

When the knock sounded a third time, she yanked the door open, gun aimed at whoever waited on the other side. “Jesus, Veronica,” the person at her door practically yelped, and again Veronica froze, this time in disbelief as she stared at the familiar face she had never again expected to see in this lifetime.

Logan looked back at her, lowering his hands from where he had held them up in an almost unconscious defensive gesture, a small smile lighting his face in a way that was so heartbreakingly familiar that Veronica almost felt like he hadn’t been gone for two years. “Logan?” she managed, her voice a croak, because she had to say something to make sure she hadn’t just officially lost it.

Logan’s smile widened, just slightly, his entire expression softening as he took a step toward her, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice exactly like she remembered, exactly like the voicemail from his therapist that Veronica would never, under pain of death, admit how many times she had replayed.

She stared at him, at the person she had hoped and prayed and wished would come back, would come home, would be alive and whole and  _ here _ again.

And she closed the door in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re here early,” Veronica said in lieu of a greeting, heading straight into her office to drop her bag off. “Don’t tell me that there’s been another thrilling string of high-profile muggings in the area.”
> 
> “You joke, but those last muggings covered our operating expenses for two whole months,” Keith told her, standing to saunter over to her. “Besides, between that and your equally exciting cheating husbands…” He trailed off when he got a good look at her. “Everything ok?”
> 
> Veronica tried her best to keep her fake smile in place. “It’s nothing,” she said dismissively. “Just having a bit of a morning.”
> 
> Keith frowned, and on any other morning, Veronica would appreciate his concern. Just not this morning. “I think it’s more than nothing,” he told her, his brow furrowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
> 
> He was so close to hitting the nail on the head that Veronica had to bite back a hysterical laugh, instead clearing her throat and looking down at her desk. “Well, funny story about that…”

_ Be careful what you wish for — you just might get it. _

_ How many times had I wished for this very moment, for Logan to show up at my door and give me that grin and a, “Hi, honey, sorry I’m late”? How many times had I played out the possibility, bargaining with whatever higher power there almost certainly wasn’t that I would forgive him for whatever reason he’d had to leave if only he would come back? _

_ And now here he was. _

_ But forgiveness, it seems, wasn’t as easy to come by. _

_ Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. _

_ And have no idea what the hell you’re supposed to do when you do. _

Veronica wasn’t particularly surprised when she walked out of her bedroom the next morning to find Logan sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting for her. It wouldn’t have been his first time picking a lock, and honestly, she should just be happy that he didn’t try and talk to her last night, that he slept out on the couch.

Pony had spent the night with him, the traitor, and she wasn’t going to forgive and forget that the next time the dog gave her pleading eyes when it was time to take him to the vet.

As it was, she avoided anything remotely resembling eye contact as she busied herself in the kitchen with the coffee machine. She was pretty certain that brewing coffee had never taken as long as it was that morning, and she stared at the steady drip as if she could will it to go any faster.

“Are we going to talk at some point?”

Veronica closed her eyes at the sound of Logan’s voice, gripping the counter with both hands. She forced herself to open her eyes, staring determinedly at the coffee machine, her shoulders tense. “Nothing to talk about,” she managed, her voice sounding significantly lighter and calmer than she even remotely felt.

She reached for a travel mug from the cupboard and froze when she heard Logan take a few tentative steps into the kitchen, though he stopped before reaching her, hovering awkwardly a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry.”

Veronica dropped the mug she had been holding and swore when it bounced harmlessly against the wooden floor, bending to snatch it up only to find Logan crouching to do the same, and she flinched away like she’d been scalded when his hand brushed against hers. She straightened, still not looking at him. “What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

Though she was aiming for glib, her tone fell a little closer to bitter, and she pointedly ignored Logan holding the mug out to her, just grabbing a different mug from the open cupboard. “You know what I’m sorry for,” Logan sighed, setting the mug down on the counter and leaning against it, watching her pour herself coffee. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through—”

“I’m fine,” Veronica interrupted, closing the cupboard with more force than necessary and grabbing her bag. “Never better. Great to see you again, but—”

“Veronica, please.” As much as she wanted to walk out, Veronica was helpless against that voice, against Logan pleading for her to stay. Helpless to do anything but turn, slowly, and meet his eyes for the first time since she had opened the door last night. “Just talk to me.”

“Talk to you?” Veronica repeated, her voice tight, and she gripped her bag like it was a lifeline. “What do you want me to talk to you about? How I spent every night for six months crying myself to sleep? How after that, I pretty much just gave up on sleep altogether?” Logan had the decency to look slightly shamefaced but she wasn’t even close to being done. “How I have missed you so much that it physically hurts to see you standing there? How—” Her voice broke. “How I used to pray, actually pray, and you know how I feel about that shit, pray that you would come back through that door?”

“But I did,” Logan told her, his voice soft, and when he took a step toward her, she practically jumped backward, tears threatening in the corners of her eyes.

“No,” she spat, viciously, lashing out with two years’ worth of pain and anger. “No, you don’t get to claim walking back into my life like it’s some gift when you were the one who walked out, when you were the one who let me believe—”

Again she broke off, the words ‘that you were dead’ choked in her throat where she couldn’t quite get them out. Logan shook his head but she didn’t give him a chance to try to explain, or worse, to try to apologize again.

Mainly because she didn’t trust herself to not believe that this time, she might just let him.

“I have to go,” she said instead, turning on heel and letting herself out, her hand shaking so badly that she could barely get the deadbolt unlocked.

Even so, she made it to her car mostly unscathed, and for one brief moment, she allowed herself to feel almost proud that she had made it that entire way without looking back.

And she even made it all the way to the first stop sign on the way to the office before she finally let herself cry.

* * *

It was through muscle memory alone that Veronica made it to the office, and she spent a good five minutes in the car trying to fix her makeup enough that it wasn’t immediately apparent that she’d been crying. Granted, it wouldn’t fool her dad for more than thirty seconds, but she was hoping she’d be able to set a meeting to exchange the pictures from last night for their check and be in and out of the office before Keith even got there.

But luck, it appeared, was decidedly no longer on Veronica’s side, if ever it had been.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her dad called from his office as soon as she walked in, and Veronica took a deep breath before forcing a smile on her face.

“You’re here early,” she said in lieu of a greeting, heading straight into her office to drop her bag off. “Don’t tell me that there’s been another thrilling string of high-profile muggings in the area.”

“You joke, but those last muggings covered our operating expenses for two whole months,” Keith told her, standing to saunter over to her. “Besides, between that and your equally exciting cheating husbands…” He trailed off when he got a good look at her. “Everything ok?”

Veronica tried her best to keep her fake smile in place. “It’s nothing,” she said dismissively. “Just having a bit of a morning.”

Keith frowned, and on any other morning, Veronica would appreciate his concern. Just not this morning. “I think it’s more than nothing,” he told her, his brow furrowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He was so close to hitting the nail on the head that Veronica had to bite back a hysterical laugh, instead clearing her throat and looking down at her desk. “Well, funny story about that…”

As if on cue, the office door opened and Logan walked in as if not a day had passed since the last time he stopped by to visit Veronica, to drop a quick kiss on her forehead before heading off to do God knew what or else to drop off something she’d left at home, and Veronica quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

Keith openly gaped at Logan, who managed a small, almost nervous smile. “Hey, Keith,” he said, but whatever he was planning on saying next was cut off by Keith’s fist meeting his face.

“Dad!” Veronica half-shouted as she stood, torn between amusement, concern and pure and utter pride as her dad shook his hand out, wincing just as much as Logan, who had landed flat on his ass. 

Logan glanced up at them both, gently prodding at his cheek and wincing. “I guess I probably deserved that,” he said, and Keith glared at him, cradling his hand against his chest.

“You more than deserve that, you son of a—”

“Dad.” Veronica’s voice was firmer this time as she stepped up to her dad’s side, grabbing him by the elbow. “Come on, let’s get some ice for your hand.”

Logan huffed a sigh that bordered on a laugh, dry and humorless though it was. “Want to get some ice for my eye while you’re at it?”

Veronica shot him a withering look. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t kill you.”

She pulled her dad toward his office but froze when she heard Logan say, sounding tired, and defeated, “Veronica, please…”

There it was again, that same tone as before, and Veronica again felt powerless against it. She glanced at her dad. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“Are you?” he asked, concern clear in his expression, and Veronica shrugged.

“I should go deal with this,” she said instead, jerking her head toward where Logan was still sitting on the floor, and Keith examined her for a long moment before nodding stiffly.

“Ok,” he said, “but if he tries anything, I’ll kill him for real.”

Veronica laughed lightly. “Get in line,” she told him before heading over to Logan, hesitating before holding out her hand, trying not to show how hard her heart pounded when he took her hand, his hand fitting perfectly with hers as if he had never let it go.

But he had, and so as soon as he had stood up, she dropped his hand, looking instead at her dad, who was still looking at her with obvious concern. “I’ll call you later,” she told him. “And if Brittany Martin calls, I got the pictures and will arrange a meeting for tomorrow at some point.”

Though Keith nodded, he looked troubled, and Veronica quickly looked away, instead quickly returning to her office to grab her bag and then striding past where Logan still waited for her. “C’mon,” she muttered, yanking the door open and mouthing ‘sorry’ at her dad before following Logan outside to head back to her place.

* * *

Once they got back to her apartment, her first stop was the freezer, to get a bag of frozen peas that she threw at Logan with more force than was even remotely necessary.

Her second stop was to her bedroom, to bring out her old friend, her taser.

Logan eyed it nervously as he sat down across from her in the living room, doing his level best to ignore Pony, who was trying to crawl into his lap and lick the bag of peas simultaneously. “Is that really necessary?” he asked.

“Necessary?” Veronica asked mildly, turning the taser on and watching it spark with electricity. “No. Is that going to stop me? Also no.”

Logan made a face and then winced. “Your dad packs a hell of a right hook,” he told her, and Veronica just stared at him flatly.

“Is that all you’ve got? Flattery?”

Huffing a laugh, Logan adjusted the bag of peas. “Only you would consider that flattery,” he said, but something about the warmth with which he said it — or maybe just the casual way he delivered it, like he was the only one who would know that about her — rubbed her the wrong way.

He wasn’t allowed to know her so intimately anymore.

No one was, but especially not him, not after—

“What are you doing here?” she asked abruptly.

Logan stared at her. “What do you mean?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “I mean why, after two years, did you deign to finally show up again? Were you waiting for me to start to move on just to fuck it all up? Is this the ultimate emotional manipulation, or—?”

Logan recoiled, his expression darkening. “You honestly think I would do that?” he asked, his voice quiet and tight. “You think I would put you through all this just to — what, hurt you even more?”

“You tell me,” Veronica said evenly. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell looks like it.”

“For Christ’s sake, Veronica,” Logan huffed, drawing a hand across his face and tossing the bag of peas to the side. “I mean, after everything you and I have been through, you really think so little of me?”

Veronica threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what to think!” she snapped. “Because I’ve spent the last two years thinking you were dead!”

Logan flinched. “I know, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry—”

“Save your breath,” she told him, scorn clear in her voice. “I don’t want an apology.”

Logan stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Then what do you want?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm. “Because I’ve spent most of this morning trying to explain, and—”

“You don’t need to explain,” Veronica said dismissively.

“Obviously I do!” Logan snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, you don’t. I put it together.” She gave him a look. “I know it’s been a few years but the blonde is, as always, just a haircolor.”

Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The Navy faked your death, obviously.” Veronica said it entirely nonchalantly, and she had to admit she got a sick amount of pleasure at the way Logan looked guilty at that. “I don’t know if they used Penn’s bomb or planted their own, assuming that we wouldn’t look too far into it, but of course that’s what happened.” She shrugged as if she was unbothered by the pieces she’d spent most of the previous night putting together. “I’m still not entirely sure why. My best guess is that while you were investigating the blackmail against the Congressman, you discovered something deeper, probably something linking to El Despiadado and the Mexican national who was killed.” Logan blanched and Veronica allowed herself a slightly triumphant smile. “Judging by the look on your face, I’m right.” As quickly as she had allowed it, her smile disappeared. “So that’s not the part that needs explaining.”

“Then what—”

“Two fucking years, Logan.” Veronica’s voice shook, and she found she couldn’t quite look at him, not if she wanted to keep it together, not if she didn’t want to cry. “That’s what needs explaining.” She swallowed, hard, and her voice was hoarse when she added, “You let me think you were dead for two years.”

“I didn’t.”

Logan’s voice was pained in a way that, once upon a time, would’ve probably caused Veronica to melt, but here, now, it only caused her to sneer. “Oh really?”

“Well, ok, technically yes, but—” Veronica rolled her eyes, ready to stand, to walk away, but when Logan spoke next, the raw anguish in his voice was enough to keep her rooted to the spot. “They were supposed to tell you.”

She didn’t try to say anything, just giving Logan a moment to gather himself. “When the Navy told me I had to go into WITSEC, my only condition was that whatever happened to me, they would tell you as soon as it was safe. I was promised that within a month, you would know.”

“But they didn’t tell me,” Veronica said, and she hated herself for how her voice trembled, how she couldn’t stop the tears that escaped despite her best efforts. “No one ever told me.”

“I know,” Logan said softly. “I didn’t, at first — know, I mean. And after a month or two, when I didn’t hear anything about you coming to meet me…” He trailed off, looking miserable. “I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me, and I...I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed you. I didn't. I knew it was what I deserved after putting you through all that.”

He shrugged, and Veronica had to physically stop herself from crossing the room to him, every instinct in her telling her to hold him, to tell him it was going to be ok.

Logan was the only one she’d ever felt that way about, the only one she’d ever felt like she had to comfort, the only one she’d ever felt she could comfort.

Which made sense, since he was the only one who did the same for her.

“So I, uh, I didn’t question it,” Logan continued, sounding almost as broken as Veronica had felt for the past two years. “I didn’t question why you didn’t come, I just assumed…” He swallowed and looked at her, his eyes burning. “And I should have. I should’ve questioned from the beginning, I should’ve done something, I—” His voice broke. “I swear to God, Veronica, as soon as I figured it out, as soon as I realized you had never been told... I would’ve done anything to get to you.”

Veronica was crying in earnest now, but she made no move to stop it, not when Logan was crying as well, not when she was physically gripping the armchair with both hands to stop from going to him. 

“The moment I realized, I left,” Logan said, and as angry as she was, as broken as she was after the last two years, Veronica believed him. “Because I love you and because if it was me, if I had been told you were dead—” 

His voice cracked and Veronica could no longer stop herself, standing and crossing to him like something out of a dream. He reached out instantly to pull her to him and she ducked her head to rest it against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, strong and steady and  _ real _ , against her ear. “Christ, Veronica,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head repeatedly, like he had done a million times before, but never like this, never with this desperation that gripped both of them. “I’d be dead by now if it was me. I couldn’t live without you, and I could only imagine—”

She cut him off by lifting her head and capturing his lips with her own. She kissed him like she needed to believe that he was there, like she needed physical proof that he was sitting in her apartment, that he was real and  _ alive _ . He kissed her back, gripping her with everything he had in him, but all too soon, pulled back, just far enough to say, softly, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, pushing him against the couch. “I just — I need—”

She couldn’t quite get any more words out, but it didn’t matter. Logan understood, his eyes darkening as he slid his hands down her sides to grip her waist and to lift her up to straddle him.

Logan had always understood, and Veronica closed her eyes and let herself fall into this moment as if the past two years had never happened.

Or at least, as if she could forget them, just for a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wondered where you went.”
> 
> Veronica didn’t have to look up from her computer to know that Logan was leaning against the doorway of her office, long and lean in sweatpants that fit him just right and a completely unnecessary shirt. On any other day, it was a sight she’d relish, all the more so after she thought she’d never get a chance to see it again.
> 
> It was too intimate, too real.
> 
> And by now, she knew better than to expect it to last.

_ If I were a smarter girl, I would’ve learned a long time ago to leave well enough alone. Take the easy paycheck, don’t ask too many questions, keep your head down. _

_ It would’ve saved me a lot of grief over the years, both professionally and personally. _

_ But I guess I’m just not that smart.  _

_ And it always has a way of biting me in the ass. _

“I wondered where you went.”

Veronica didn’t have to look up from her computer to know that Logan was leaning against the doorway of her office, long and lean in sweatpants that fit him just right and a completely unnecessary shirt. On any other day, it was a sight she’d relish, all the more so after she thought she’d never get a chance to see it again.

But she’d slid out of their — her — bed well before the crack of dawn for a reason, the least of which was that she didn’t want to see Logan like this.

Didn’t want to trace the planes of his chest with her hands, feel the old scars under the tips of her fingers or the new scratches she’d had a damn good time making the night before. Didn’t want to see that look on his face as he gazed down at her through half-lidded eyes, that look that spoke more volumes than any words they’d ever exchanged.

It was too intimate, too real.

And by now, she knew better than to expect it to last.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said, scrolling through the webpage open on her laptop in the vain hope he might get the hint and leave, go back to their — her — apartment, or back to...wherever he came from.

But of course he didn’t. “I’ve always been a light sleeper,” he said, and for the first time she glanced up at him, clearly skeptical, and doubly irritated that he looked as good as she suspected.

“Since when?” she asked. “You used to sleep like the dead.”

Something in Logan’s face tightened at the expression before he forced a smile. “Well, it was always easier to sleep when I had my favorite body pillow.”

Veronica just stared at him flatly. “Yeah,” she said. “It was.” Logan’s expression flickered and Veronica looked back down at her computer, forcing her voice to stay light as she said conversationally, “You know, I was thinking about what you said.”

Logan took a few steps into her office. “Yeah?” he asked, something almost hopeful in his tone. “What part.”

“How you left when you realized.”

Veronica delivered the words calmly, flatly, and Logan’s brow furrowed, clearly not following. “How I left when I realized what?”

Veronica gave him a look. “That they’d never told me.”

“Oh.” Logan looked away, his hands in his pockets, a muscle working in his jaw. “Yeah?”

His voice was rough, pained, and Veronica took it as a moment of victory, however hollow and short-lived. “I’ll take it that means they didn’t let you go,” she said. “Meaning whatever threat they were worried about in the first place is still out there.”

Logan looked momentarily horrified. “Sure, but I don’t think — I mean, I thought the benefit outweighed the risk, and—”

Despite the sick joy she got out of watching him flounder, she rescued him from his stammering. “I just meant that at some point you’ll have to go back,” she said coolly, and Logan’s expression darkened so suddenly that Veronica felt it like a cloud crossing over the sun.

“Veronica—” he started, his voice low, but she shushed him as her search results finally loaded.

As much as she’d love to pretend that the only reason she’d snuck out of bed was to get away from Logan, she had been doing work, and her face fell as she scanned the screen.“Damn it,” she sighed, clicking out of the webpage.

Logan’s expression flickered. “Problem?”

“Another dead end,” she told him. “Another shell company with no ownership details on file.”

“Don’t you have ways of finding that information out?” Logan asked mildly.

Veronica gave him a tight, if slightly satisfactory, smile. “Oh, I’ve got ways,” she assured him. “But it’ll take a bit longer than a simple search and I was hoping I’d be done with this.”

Logan crossed over to sit down at her desk, and she bit back her sniping that he presumed he’d be welcome. “And, uh, what case is this exactly?” he asked. “With Big Dick out of the picture, are you chasing down the next real estate mogul of Neptune?”

Veronica hesitated. “It’s not exactly for a case,” she hedged. “More like a case-related coincidence that’s just not sitting right with me.”

“You’re gut’s better than most,” Logan told her, his voice low, and Veronica blinked and looked away. “So, what’s the coincidence you’re working on?”

Even though Veronica knew she’d be better off telling Logan to leave, she nonetheless sighed and told him, “I’ve been covering a spate of cheating husbands, and there’s something weird about them.”

Logan raised both eyebrows. “There’s something weird about assholes cheating on their wives in Neptune?” he asked dryly, and she was reminded far too well of his father’s history.

“No, but there is something weird about four local trophy wives in a row paying with a business check,” she told him. “Most wives trying to catch their cheating husbands pay in cash, or if they’re desperate, personal check.”

Logan laughed, the sound too bright for the early morning hour. “Personal check? What year is this?”

Veronica hid a smile, instead giving him her most imperious look. “Hey, I’ll have you know, Mars Investigations now accepts PayPal.”

Logan whistled lowly. “Wow, you’ve moved into the twenty-first century,” he said with a smile. “I can barely believe it.”

“Well, a lot’s changed while you were gone.” Veronica was aiming for something light, almost cheerful, but evidently she didn’t succeed, since Logan’s face fell.

“Yeah,” he said dully. “I can see that.”

For one moment made long solely by the awkwardness that stretched between them, both avoided looking at the other, but after what seemed like an eternity, Logan cleared his throat. “Can I have a look?” he asked, and when Veronica shot him a dubious glance, he pointed out evenly, “Once upon a time I did do intelligence for a living. I know anything I know is probably useless, but...”

He trailed off and Veronica made a face, recognizing it as the peace offering it was and not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Fine,” she said, after a long moment, passing the manilla folder across the desk to him. “But like I said, they’re shell companies, and—”

She broke off when she saw the look on Logan’s face when he saw the first check, and wordlessly, she handed over copies of the other checks, watching him closely as his expression tightened to something like rage. “Is everything ok?”

Logan swallowed, hard. “These are agency companies,” he told her, his voice a low, furious growl, something she hadn’t heard in years, even before his supposed death. 

She knew that tone well. It was one he used when someone closest to him was threatened.

It had been a very long time since she had heard it used on her behalf.

“What agency?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“The Central Intelligence Agency,” Logan said grimly. “CIA can’t operate domestically, but it sure looks like they’ve been having you tail American citizens they can’t legally spy on.”

“Didn’t that all go out the window with the Patriot Act?” she tried to joke, but Logan didn’t laugh, didn’t so much as crack a smile.

Instead, he shook his head slowly, a muscle in his jaw again working with the fury he seemed to be trying to hold back. “The Agency was involved in my relocation,” he told her instead, and Veronica instantly sobered, understanding what he wasn’t saying in an instant. “It was a joint operation. And I would bet anything that whoever was supposed to tell you—”

“Figured he’d use me instead for his own ends,” Veronica finished grimly, fury of her own welling in her chest as she locked eyes with Logan. For the first time since his reappearance, they were both entirely on the same page.

She tore her eyes away, glancing down at the files spread across her desk, her fury settling into determination. “Well,” she said, “I’m supposed to be making an exchange of the newest round of photos this afternoon. Given what you and I both know, I’m guessing the ‘wife’ who comes for the exchange is actually working for the CIA, which gives me ample opportunity to figure out what exactly she knows.”

Her tone made no mistake that what she intended was hardly going to be legal, but Logan didn’t so much as bat an eye, and Veronica shouldn’t have found that as endearing as she did. “Good,” he told her, his voice grim, “and I’ll reach out to what contacts I still have on the downlow, see what they might know.”

Veronica nodded, though she looked up at Logan when he told her simply, his voice pained, raw, and wholly honest, “When I find out who set this up, I will kill him.”

Veronica opened her desk drawer and pulled out her gun, loading the magazine in with a decisive click. “Get in line,” she told him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay — had some family stuff this past week. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait!

_ The thing about being a PI is that you often have to walk the fine line between law enforcement and crime. Truth is, sometimes you have to break a few laws to catch some lawbreakers. _

_ Not that I’d know anything about that, of course. _

_ We at Mars Investigations— _

_ Oh, who am I kidding.  _

_ We do what we have to do. Always have, always will, and the law degree I’ve yet to actually use has long made its peace with it. _

_ Of course, it helps in a case like this, when I can’t actually remember what the exact mandatory minimum sentence is for kidnapping a federal agent. _

_ And truth is, I probably don’t want to know. _

_ It’s not like knowing is going to make it any easier. _

_ For either of us. _

“Veronica!” The woman who had introduced herself as Emily — and who, Veronica now knew, was very likely not actually named Emily — waved at Veronica as she approached the park bench where Veronica sat, one hand in her bag, resting comfortably on the handle of her gun.

“Hey,” Veronica said with a tired smile, her entire body tense as Emily got closer. She had one chance to get this right, and getting the drop on a CIA agent wasn’t likely to be easy.

Luckily, she had the fact that she was tiny and blonde on her side. No one ever suspected the tiny blonde ones.

And more than one person had learned from painful experience how wrong that assumption was.

“Did you get the pictures?” Emily asked anxiously, perching on the edge of the bench next to Veronica.

“I did.” Veronica forced her expression into something she hoped was vaguely sympathetic. “And I’m sorry to tell you that it’s what you expected.”

Emily nodded slowly. “So he is cheating on me,” she said, resigned.

“It sure looks that way.”

Again Emily nodded, her expression carefully controlled, and Veronica had to admire her acting abilities as she sighed heavily. “Goddamnit,” she said, reaching up to brush invisible tears from her cheeks — a nice touch, even Veronica had to admit. “Well that’s that, I guess.” She glanced over at Veronica. “Where are the pictures?”

Veronica pretended to be surprised by the question. “Oh, they’re just—” She looked around before sighing. “I am so sorry, I must’ve left them in my car.” She tapped herself lightly on the head. “Blonde moment, sorry.”

This CIA agent wasn’t the only one who could put on a show.

For a moment, she was worried she might have overdone it but Emily let out a light laugh and shook her head. “I totally get that,” she assured her.

Veronica stood. “If you want to wait here, I’ll just go grab them—”

“Oh, no, I can come with you,” Emily said instantly, and Veronica had to tamp down her triumphant grin.

She had her exactly where she wanted her.

So instead of smiling, she forced herself to still look slightly chagrined as she jerked her head in the direction of the parking lot behind a small sand hill at the edge of the park. “Ok, I’m parked just over there,” she said, and together they headed in that direction. “I’m really so sorry, normally I’m more on top of things.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Emily assured her. “I don’t mind the walk. Gotta burn those calories somehow.”

“Of course,” Veronica said, trying not to roll her eyes.

They paused at the top of the hill, Emily glancing down at the few cars in the parking lot. Looking for potential blind spots, Veronica realized, recognizing the systemic way she gave the parking lot a once over, mainly because if it were any other day, she’d be doing the same exact thing. “So which car—” she started, breaking off when she felt Veronica’s gun pressed against her ribs. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I have some questions,” Veronica said pleasantly. “And you’re going to answer them.”

Emily’s expression changed instantly, going from panic to calculation so quickly that Veronica could barely track it. “If you had any idea who I work for—” she started, her voice low.

“The CIA?” Veronica supplied, her smirk widening as Emily’s expression tightened. “I know exactly who you are.”

Emily eyed her warily. “If you know who I am, then you know I’m not going to tell you anything. I’ve undergone extensive training in withstanding torture, and, uh—” She gave Veronica a dubious once-over. “—I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you think you can do.”

Veronica pressed her gun harder against her, beginning to regret not going with her taser, even if she didn’t exactly want to have to cart 125 pounds of deadweight to her car. “Maybe,” she said, “but what do you say we go for a drive and find out?”

* * *

In fairness, Veronica kind of knew her plan was going to fall apart as soon as Emily realized she was all talk and, in this case at least, very little follow-through. After all, she wasn’t actually going to torture a CIA agent, and the gun she’d set on the table in front of her was as big a threat as she could reasonably make.

Still, as she sat across from Emily in the garage at Weevil’s auto shop — the only place she could think to borrow on short notice — she briefly wondered if pistol-whipping someone would actually get them to spill information. “What if I expose you?” she asked instead, and Emily, who up until this moment had been entirely silent and stone-faced, frowned slightly.

“Sorry?”

“What would happen to you if I, I don’t know, took a picture of you and posted it on my public instagram with a caption saying that you had paid me to spy on an American citizen in direct violation of Executive Order 12333 of 1981?” Emily arched an eyebrow and Veronica shrugged. “I googled it.”

Emily scowled slightly. “Exposing me wouldn’t accomplish anything,” she said dismissively. “I’d get reassigned in the Agency, big deal. I’ve had about enough of California anyway.”

Veronica leaned forward. “Really?” she asked doubtfully. “All that would happen is a reassignment? No Congressional inquiry, no examination of your service record, no going over every case you’ve worked on with a fine-tooth comb, all because some dumb blonde in Neptune, California got the drop on a highly trained CIA operative?”

Emily’s glare deepened. “You didn’t get the drop on me.”

“Pretty sure that’s what they call it when someone manages to trick you into an open position, force you into a car and drive you to an illegal chop shop where you’ve been held for the past—” Veronica pretended to check her watch. — “two hours against your will.” She leaned forward, smirking. “Imagine what the boys club at Langley will say when they find out I’m only five-foot-one and you didn’t even try to fight back.”

For a moment, it looked like Emily might take the bait, but then her expression evened out and she shook her head. “Why does it even matter to you?” she asked. “You did a job, you were paid—”

“It matters because of what the CIA did to my husband!” Veronica interrupted, angrier than intended, and she mentally swore at herself for tipping her hand so early.

But despite not intending to mention it, her words seemed to rattle Emily, whose brow furrowed as she glanced at her. “Your husband?” she repeated, sounding surprised. “What about your husband?”

Veronica hesitated, not sure how much to reveal — but also wanting to capitalize on this sudden change in Emily’s mood. “The CIA helped stage my husband’s death,” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice. “And then, instead of telling me that he was still alive like they were supposed to, they let me spend the last two years thinking he was dead and using me to spy on American citizens.” Emily blinked, looking taken aback, and Veronica leaned forward. “Needless to say, I’d like some fucking answers.”

“I’m sorry.” To her credit, Emily sounded sincere, and some of Veronica’s surprise must have shown on her face because Emily quickly added, “About your husband, I mean. But I don’t know anything about that.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Then what do you know?”

It was Emily’s turn to hesitate, and she wet her lips before leaning forward herself, lowering her voice as if someone might be listening in. “Not a whole lot. I’m in California on assignment and one of my supervisors pulled me, said they needed me for a short temporary assignment.”

“And you didn’t question why?” Veronica asked, skeptical.

“No.”

Veronica scowled. “Why not?”

Emily gave her a look. “Because I’ve found out that the less questions you ask in this line of work, the better your life ends up being.” She arched an eyebrow. “Which is something you should try to keep in mind.”

Veronica’s lip curled. “Cute, but I prefer answers to toeing the line and keeping my mouth shut.”

Emily snorted. “Yeah, I figured that out for myself,” she said, glancing pointedly around the machine shop.

“Then maybe you can answer this,” Veronica said curtly. “Why me?”

“I don’t know why.”

“Then why were you paying me to spy on those men?” Veronica continued doggedly. “Were you tracking their movements, gathering some kind of intel, or—?”

Emily sighed. “I don’t know that either.”

Veronica glared at her. “Then who at the CIA  _ would _ know that?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Like I’m going to tell you that,” she said dismissively.

Though Veronica’s glare deepened, she was prevented — or saved, depending on how you wanted to look at it — from saying anything by her cellphone ringing, and she glanced down at it. RESTRICTED NUMBER, the screen read, and Veronica answered it. “Hey babe, how’s your day going?” she asked, saccharine sweet, picking her gun off the table.

“I’m gonna assume you’re with company,” Logan said. “Otherwise I’ll get jealous that you answer all your restricted calls that way.”

“Just the ones I suspect are from my presumed-dead husband,” Veronica told him, before adding, “And you got yourself a cellphone awfully quickly.”

She could practically hear Logan’s shrug over the phone. “Borrowed it from a buddy in the Navy,” he said. “It’s a burner, so I’ll just get rid of it when I’m done.”

Something tightened in Veronica’s chest as the casual way he talked about being done, knowing damn well she was included in that, and she forced herself back on track. “Discover anything while getting yourself a phone?” she asked instead, keeping her voice light.

“Maybe,” Logan told her, suddenly serious. “Does the name Greg Carson mean anything to you?”

“Uh—” Veronica wracked her brain, going through old case files as if rummaging through a file drawer, and she brightened when she remembered. “Sure. He hired me almost a year after you—” She broke off, swallowing hard before forcing herself to continue. “He hired me to track down his lost brother. Case took a couple months. The brother really didn’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, that’s because it wasn’t his brother,” Logan said grimly. “It was a former CIA agent who was put in WITSEC. And want to know the best part?”

Veronica gave a small, humorless laugh. “Don’t I always?”

“The same former CIA agent was blown up in a car bomb a few months ago.”

“Son of a bitch,” Veronica breathed.

Even though it had been years, she knew Logan well enough to understand all the questions he wanted to ask but couldn’t when he said softly, “You ok?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Veronica told him darkly. “Better than he’s going to be.”

The answer was apparently enough for Logan, since he didn’t press it, instead telling her, “I’m going to do some more digging to find out why the ex-Agent was in WITSEC. What are you gonna do?”

Veronica turned to eye Emily, who was watching her warily. “What I have to,” she told Logan before hanging up and returning her phone to her pocket. She then pointed her gun at Emily again. “One last question for you,” she said pleasantly. “Where can I find Greg Carson?”

* * *

The modern, all-glass office building that Emily directed her to wasn’t exactly what came to mind when Veronica thought of secret hideout for the CIA, but then again, she knew better than anyone else that looks could be deceiving. And besides, its location on the far north side of Neptune put it almost outside the 90909 zipcode, which probably meant the government was saving on rent.

She grabbed her taser out of her bag and hesitated before taking her gun out as well. Technically, the only thing she was looking for was answers, but if the opportunity presented itself — well, Veronica had never been one to turn down the opportunity for revenge.

As she stepped out of her car, a nondescript gray American-made car with tinted windows pulled up next to her, and Veronica sighed. “I thought you were looking into the CIA agent,” she called, leveling a look at Logan as he rolled the window down.

“I did,” he told her. “Fascinating things we have now called ‘databases’ and ‘search engines’ that really speed up the process. Besides, I figure why let you have all the fun?”

Veronica rolled her eyes as Logan got out of the car. “I can handle myself,” she told him.

Logan met her gaze evenly. “I know,” he said, the simplicity of his words underlining their sincerity. “But if you thought I was gonna let you do this alone, then you don’t know me at all.”

There were a lot of things Veronica could say to that, a lot of very pointed arguments to be made about how after two years’ time she wasn’t sure if she  _ did _ know him. But as she stood there watching him lean against the car and look at her with that ever unreadable look on his face, she didn’t want to make any of those arguments.

Not the least of which was because she wasn’t sure how true they were anymore.

“One last time then,” she said instead, “for old time’s sake.”

She made as if to walk past him towards the building, but Logan surprised her by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close before kissing her, cupping her cheek with his free hand. “It won’t be the last time,” he promised, his voice low, his eyes burning. “I promise you that.”

“I love you,” Veronica told him, because she did, though she added, because it was true and because they deserved honesty after everything they’d been through, “I don’t want to, not after everything, but I do.”

Logan kissed the top of her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you, too,” he told her. “And I’m ready to go kick some ass with you.”

“Good,” Veronica said. “Then let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is once again late. I am once again sorry for that.

_ In all my years doing this, it never fails to surprise me how often the resolution to a case feels like a let down. Devoting days if not weeks of your life to something, only to watch someone get arrested at best or make it off scot free at worst sometimes makes it seem like it’s not worth it. _

_ Justice rarely looks the way we want it to. _

_ But every now and then, often when you least expect it, you get that one job where you get to watch someone get exactly what they deserve. _

_ And I only hope this is one of those times. _

The entire building was eerily quiet as Veronica and Logan made their way inside. They moved without needing to instruct the other, knowing implicitly that they both still knew how to work in perfect unison as they cleared the entrance way and headed further in.

From the outside, the building looked like a fairly typical office building for the area, but the illusion crumbled when they got inside. The lobby was vacant, plastic sheeting tented over the reception area. HARD HAT AREA, a sign taped next to the elevator read. NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS.

“What do you think?” Veronica asked, lowering her gun slightly as she glanced over at Logan, whose expression was grim.

“Straight to the top,” he told her, hitting the button for the elevator.

She arched an eyebrow. “You think this’ll work?”

He met her gaze evenly. “If it were me, I’d want a chance to chat with the plucky PI who figured everything out.”

She half-smiled. “You may be biased in that regard.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” The elevator door slid open with a  _ ding _ and Logan took a step back, gesturing for Veronica to get in first. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

When the elevator door closed, Logan turned to face her, his expression almost gentle as he looked down at her. “In case there’s not time to say it later—”

“Hey,” Veronica said, reaching out to rest her hand lightly on his chest. “Don’t. Not now.”

For a moment, it looked like Logan might argue with that, but then he nodded and bent to kiss her forehead. “Ok,” he said, and they both turned to face the elevator door, ready for the door to open.

As soon as it did, they moved together in a fluid motion, stepping out of the elevator and both turning so their backs faced each other as they scanned the floor. Almost as soon as they did, Veronica relaxed, frowning slightly. “Well that’s disappointing,” she said, gesturing at the vacant expanse of the floor, the empty, glass-walled offices staring back at them.

“Someone’s been up here,” Logan said, gesturing toward a folding table and chair set up in a corner, a laptop and several high-powered modems set up on the plastic surface.

Veronica made a face as they headed in that direction. “I was expecting something a little more like a supervillain’s lair,” she complained.

“Supervillain?” a voice said from behind them, and Veronica and Logan both whirled around, their weapons at the ready. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Greg Carson,” Veronica said evenly, her gun aimed unwaveringly at his chest. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He slowly raised his hands in a defensive gesture, a small, sharp smile on his face as he walked closer to them. “Ms. Mars,” he said, nodding to her before glancing at Logan. “And I’d guess this is Mr. Echolls. I heard you skipped out on your WITSEC protection unit.”

“I had some unfinished business,” Logan said, his voice low. “Thanks to you.”

Greg clucked his tongue, looking amused. “First you call me a supervillain, now you say that I’m the cause of your unfinished business. I really feel like you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Where I’m standing, we’re giving credit where credit’s due,” Veronica said, her voice tight, and Greg glanced over at her, for the first time, something flickering in his expression.

“I’m only a supervillain in your story, Veronica,” he said with a sneer. “In every other version, I’m a national hero.”

“Is that what you’re calling using me to illegally spy on the domestic activities of American citizens?” Veronica asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Greg threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, come on, you can’t be that naive,” he scoffed. “These are ex-spies, not civilians. Their activities are pertinent to national security, and finding a creative way around regulations makes me good at my job, not a traitor.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot how sleeping with someone who isn’t your fake wife is a national security threat,” Veronica said, sarcasm dripping from each word. “What were you planning on doing with the pictures anyway? Blackmailing them?”

“No.” It wasn’t Greg who replied, it was Logan, staring at Greg with pure disgust. “At least, not based on what I saw in his files. Oh, he’d blackmail them, alright, but only as a means to an end: to get their contacts, or get to reveal secrets. And then to burn them.”

Greg’s smile slipped, just slightly. “You’ve been watching too many spy movies in WITSEC, Mr. Echolls,” he said coldly.

Veronica glanced at Logan. “Burn them?” she repeated, somewhat skeptically. “Not literally, I assume.”

Logan shook his head. “No. Reveal them as spies. Burn their covers and every tie they have to the intelligence and security communities. They’ll never work again. Whatever pension they’re eligible for, they’ll lose. Any other benefits their families are entitled to—”

“Like health insurance?” Veronica interrupted, anger welling in her again as she thought about her dad and his health problems, and her finger twitched against the trigger of her gun. “Dude, do you even know how much health insurance costs these days?!”

Logan eyed her cautiously. “Maybe now is not the time for this particular rant—” he started, but she ignored him.

“So you wanted to ruin their lives, destroy their safety nets, and for what? For your own sick gratification?”

Greg glared at her. “No, because they tried to ruin my life first,” he spat. “My life  _ and _ my career. Everything that was coming to them was everything they deserved.”

Veronica hesitated. It wouldn’t be the first time that the person she thought was the bad guy had also been screwed over. But Logan barked a dry, incredulous laugh. “What they deserved?” he repeated. “They were whistleblowers.” His eyes narrowed as he glared at Greg. “Seems like  _ someone _ was using some unauthorized enhanced interrogation techniques, and the spies whose lives he’s been trying to ruin reported him.”

“And by enhanced interrogation, you mean torture, right?” Veronica asked.

“The CIA doesn’t exactly define it that way, but—”

“The CIA doesn’t know what it’s really like out there!” Greg burst. “They want information, they all want information, and they turn a blind eye to however you manage to obtain it until some fucking idiot who thinks he’s better than you decides to tattle to the higher ups.” His lip curled as he glared at Veronica and Logan. “So I got reassigned and they got to retire with full honors. Well, they won’t be doing much tattling anymore.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Remember when I said supervillain earlier? I’m changing that to run of the mill sociopath.” Greg made as if to lunge toward her and Veronica lifted her gun up a little higher, aiming right between his eyes, and he shrank back, eyeing her warily. “But you know what I want to know? Why me?” It was the questions she’d been asking in her more bitter moments for two years now, but it felt completely different to ask it knowing she might actually get an answer. “Why ruin my life when I didn’t do a single thing to you?”

Greg just shrugged. “Happy accident,” he said, completely casually. “When I was coming to tell you about Logan, I heard about a bail jumper you tracked down. Everyone said it was an impossible case, but you cracked it.” His voice sounded almost admiring, but then he smirked. “So I figured what the hell. And then after you tracked one down, I figured it would be easy enough to get some dirt on everyone else.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Veronica asked.

“Eventually,” Greg said, shrugging again. “When you stopped being useful.”

Logan let out a low growl and all but slammed him into the wall. “You had no right,” he snarled, with an anger that Veronica hadn’t seen from him in years, and she stood there, frozen, watching Logan punch him repeatedly.

It was as if the years between them had disappeared, as if they were right back where they once were, Logan beating someone up while she watched in horror. Or sick fascination. It’d been long enough that she’d stopped asking herself which.

But this wasn’t who Logan was anymore. Before the explosion, before everything, he had worked so hard to not be this person. And even if she had pushed back on it at the time, too afraid of everything between them changing, she knew he had tried to change for her.

And she’d be damned if she was the one who let him give that all up.

“Logan, stop,” she said quietly, and her soft words were enough for him to stop immediately. 

He still held Greg against the wall but his fist unclenched, and he turned to look back at Veronica, his eyes burning. “He deserves this,” he told her, his voice low. “He deserves worse.”

Veronica just shrugged. “Maybe he does, but—”

“He took away our shot at a happy ending.”

As stupid as it was, the breath still caught in Veronica’s throat at Logan’s words, though the moment was thoroughly ruined by Greg, who let out a wet-sounding cough that might have been an attempt at a laugh. “Oh please,” he scoffed. Happy endings are overrated. He switched his gaze to Veronica, smirking up at her, oblivious to the blood that flowed freely from his almost certainly broken nose. “I’ve seen you, Veronica. Maybe it’s not what you would’ve chose but it’s made you stronger. Better. Losing Logan made you the best PI I’ve seen in a long time. And isn’t that so much more satisfying than happily ever after?”

“Satisfying?” Logan demanded, and she could see the strain it was taking for him not to punch him again. “You think this is satisfying?”

“Logan.” Again, that was all it took for the fight to leave him, though he didn’t loosen his grip on Greg even as he glanced back at Veronica. “Maybe this is what he deserves.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself to the choice she was about to make. “But like you said, he took away our happy ending. So it seems only fair we take away his.”

Greg’s smile slipped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, while I was never a girl scout, I learned a long time ago to always be prepared.” She pulled the recording device she’d brought with her out of her pocket with her free hand and waved it at Greg, a small smirk of her own lifting the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know if this is enough to qualify as treason, but I’m pretty sure that in the right hands, it’s enough to get you burned. And that’s good enough for me.”

All the blood drained from his face as he stared at her. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “They won’t burn me. They’ll kill me.”

Veronica just shrugged, tucking the recording device back in her pocket. “You let me think my husband was dead for two years,” she said coldly. “So I don’t really care what happens to you.” She lowered her gun, just slightly. “C’mon, Logan. Let’s go.”

She had just turned away when she heard Logan let out a noise of surprise, and even though she whirled back around immediately, raising her gun again, she was too late. Logan struggled against the arm Greg had wrapped around his neck, his gun in Greg’s hand and pressed against his own temple. “Ah, ah, ah,” Greg hissed in Logan’s ear, holding him in front of him like a shield. “You’ve gone soft in WITSEC, Echolls. Do you think I’d’ve gotten the drop on you two years ago?”

“Let him go!” Veronica snapped, trying her best to find a shot that didn’t involve accidentally shooting Logan. 

“Oh, I will,” Greg assured her with a grin. “But first I need you to hand me that recording.” Veronica didn’t move and his smile faded, just slightly, and he jammed the gun even harder against Logan’s head, ignoring the way Logan winced in pain. “The recording, Ms. Mars, or I’ll kill your husband for real.”

Veronica locked eyes with Logan, meeting his gaze steadily. Logan shook his head, just a tiny little jerking motion, enough that anyone else might’ve assumed it was just an involuntary movement.

But if Logan reappearing in her life had taught her anything, Veronica knew him better than she knew anyone else.

And she just hoped he still knew her as well as he once did.

“Go ahead,” she said, tearing her eyes away from Logan’s to look back at Greg, her voice completely calm. “I lost him once already, and you’re right. It made me stronger.” Her eyes flickered back down to Logan’s for just a moment. “Strong enough to know that I could handle it again.”

Greg let out a frustrated noise, his arm tightening around Logan’s throat, hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of the gun, and Veronica bit back a cry as Logan groaned before going limp. “Do you honestly think I won’t kill him?” Greg half-shouted. “Give me the damn recording!”

“No.”

Greg growled and flung Logan aside, aiming Logan’s gun at her as he stalked toward her. “Give me the fucking recording, you stupid fucking—”

Veronica heard the gunshot, and she stumbled backward. As she fell heavily to the ground, she looked automatically for Logan, every breath feeling like agony as she blinked rapidly. Her eyes finally landed on him, slumped against the wall, blood all down the side of his face, and she closed her eyes.

“Logan…”


	6. Chapter 6

Veronica stared up at the ceiling, her breath coming in pained gasps. But breathing, however painful, was a good sign. It meant she was still alive, at least for the moment. It meant that Greg’s bullet hadn’t killed her — or hadn’t killed her yet.

“Veronica!” She could hear the panic in Logan’s voice and see it on his face as it swam into view above her. “Veronica, are you ok?”

“Ow.”

It was the only word that she could manage, but apparently, it was enough. Every line in Logan’s body relaxed, and he managed a shaky laugh. “You’re alright,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Oh, thank God. You’re alright.”

Slowly, he helped her sit upright, though Veronica had no desire to move any further than that, cradled against Logan’s chest, feeling his heartbeat against her ear. She took a shaky breath and looked down at herself, and even though she knew she would see no bullet hole in her chest, she still let out a small gasp when she saw that she was entirely unscathed. “What happened?” she asked finally, looking up at Logan.

A muscle worked in Logan’s jaw, though his tone was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face and told her, “I made a few calls.”

Veronica looked over her shoulder, unsurprised to see Greg Carson spread-eagle on the ground in a pool of his own blood. “Sniper?” she guessed.

Logan nodded. “Took a few minutes for them to get in position,” he said. “Otherwise that asshole never would’ve gotten the drop on me.”

She managed a shaky laugh. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure,” she scoffed, or tried to at least, reaching up to wipe the tears she could feel making their way down her cheeks.

But Logan caught her hand before she could, lacing their fingers together as he looked down at her. “I would have let him kill me,” he told her, his voice low. “I would die before I let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m just really, really fucking glad you didn’t have to.”

Then she closed her eyes and rested her head against Logan’s chest and for five minutes at least, let herself believe that everything was finally going to be ok.

* * *

Of course, the moment didn’t last. Veronica and Logan were separated while they were both asked a series of questions by a series of men wearing what appeared to be the same black suit. Luckily for Veronica, the questions were more routine than anything, and after the final guy in a suit verified that she didn’t need to see a doctor, she was dismissed from the premises.

Which left her with nothing to do but sit on the hood of her car while she waited for Logan to be released as well.

It took almost half an hour, but Logan finally strode across the parking lot toward her. “They let you go?” Veronica asked mildly, as if she hadn’t spent the last half hour worried that they’d keep Logan in custody and just like that, she’d never see him again.

It wasn’t the nightmare scenario. But it was close.

Logan shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “For the moment,” he said. “But, uh…”

He trailed off and Veronica sighed. “But not for long.”

“No.” Logan’s voice was quiet, and resigned. “I have to go back to WITSEC.”

“I know,” Veronica said, because she had figured it out since he first told her where he has been. This may finally be over for her, but it wasn’t over for Logan. Not yet.

“But there is some good news.”

Veronica looked up at him. “Oh yeah?” she asked. “What’s that?”

“You can finally come with me. Now that you know.”

Veronica looked away, a lump of emotion welling in her throat. She’d been expecting this moment, been dreading this moment, but now that it was here — now that it was here, she didn’t want to face it at all. “Logan…”

“I know we have a lot to figure out,” Logan added quickly, before Veronica could speak. “I know I need to make things up to you, I know you need to work things out with your dad, make sure everything’s settled here, we’d have to get Pony shipped over to wherever we end up, and I’m sure you’ve got some cases you need to wrap up, but—” He broke off, something almost pleading in his expression. “But this is our chance, Veronica. You and me. Our happy ending.”

“I can’t.”

Logan swallowed, hard, but Veronica could tell by his expression that he wasn’t surprised. Not really. “Part of me wants to,” she continued, because after everything, she owed him the truth. The full truth. And absolutely nothing but it. “The part of me that hasn’t really lived until you came back, that part wants nothing more than to ride off into the sunset with you.”

“Then why can’t you?” Logan asked quietly.

“You know why.” And he obviously did, since he made no move to argue with her or try to refute her. But still, despite the fact that he said nothing, despite the fact that he just looked at her the way he always had, she still felt like she had to explain. “I have responsibilities here, a job here, a life here. And maybe it’s not the happy ending that once upon a time I thought I’d get, but it’s a life that I’ve managed to rebuild when it felt like I had nothing left.” Logan’s expression tightened, just slightly, and Veronica shook her head. “I owe it to myself to figure out who I am now that I know you’re alive. So I’m choosing this, at least for now, at least until I figure it all out.” 

Logan nodded slowly. “I get it,” he told her. “I wish I didn’t, but I get it.”

He bent to kiss her forehead but Veronica tipped her head back to capture his lips with hers, for just a moment, not knowing how many more moments they had left. “You know, I expected a little more,” she said, making a joke as she tried to blink back her tears.

“More?” Logan asked, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

Veronica half-smiled. “You know, some shouting, some crying, hell, maybe some headlight breaking, just for old time’s sake.”

“Nah,” Logan said dismissively, with a small smile of his own. “I’d only do that if I thought this was the end.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

He shook his head. “No. I told you before — I believe our love story is epic.”

“Spanning years, continents, bloodshed, if memory serves,” Veronica said mildly.

Logan’s smile widened, just slightly. “Exactly. We’ve survived bloodshed and continents — that just leaves years. So how could I possibly believe it’s done?”

Veronica sighed, something almost wistful in her tone as she told him, “I wish I could be that certain.”

Logan shrugged. “It’s ok. I can believe it enough for both of us.”

Despite herself, Veronica managed a laugh, though it didn’t quite sound as incredulous as she felt. “So, what, you think that one day I’m going to just give everything up to come find you?”

“No.” Logan said it plainly, and Veronica blinked, surprised. “I think that one day, you’ll be done with whatever you have left to figure out. And at that point, you won’t have to give anything up to find me.”

Veronica half-smiled, and she reached out to grab Logan’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “And you really think I can outsmart WITSEC, figure out where you are?”

“Of course I do. You’re Veronica Mars.” Logan twisted their hands to raise hers to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “If anyone can, it’s you. If you want to, anyway.”

“Even without knowing your name?” Veronica asked, almost teasingly.

Logan just shrugged. “I have faith you’ll figure it out.”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask, but she couldn’t seem to stop her curiosity. “What was your name this past time?”

The question seemed to take him by surprise. “Oh, Logan still.”

“Not very creative.”

Logan shrugged again. “Yeah, I know.” He looked away, his smile back, a little wider this time. “Logan Mars.” The breath caught in Veronica’s throat. “They say it takes balls to use your real name in WITSEC, but what can I say, I liked my married name too much to give it up.”

She could stop herself from pulling him close and kissing him then, holding onto him as if she would never let him go, even though she knew that eventually, she would have to. Logan kissed her back with the same intensity, cupping her cheek with his warm hand, every touch reverent, as if he was trying to memorize this.

Memorize her.

“I love you,” Veronica told him when they finally broke apart, Logan’s forehead resting lightly against hers.

“I know,” Logan said softly. “I love you, too.” He kissed her once more before straightening, his expression darkening as he did. “And now I gotta go.” 

Veronica swallowed around the lump in her throat and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, a little hoarsely. “So do I.”

Logan looked down at her for one long moment before bending and kissing her forehead once more. “I never got to say goodbye to you the first time,” he told her softly, and Veronica closed her eyes, blinking back her tears. “And I’m not gonna say goodbye to you now. Because this isn’t the end, Veronica.” He kissed her once more before taking a step back. “But what I will say is good luck, with everything you need to figure out. And I’ll see you when I see you.”

There were a million things that Veronica wanted to say, but she knew that they didn’t have time. Maybe, one day, there’d be time, but for now, they lived as always in the things they left unsaid. So she settled for tilting her head up, putting on her best attempt at her usual smile, and telling Logan, with more sincerity than she could ever say, “See you when I see you.”

Logan nodded, just once, and then turned to walk across the parking lot. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, and Veronica forced herself not to look away. She watched as two of the men in suits flanked him, escorting him to a car and ushering him inside. And she forced herself to watch as the car drove off, taking Logan away from her, again.

Then Veronica slid off the hood of her car and slowly, almost numbly, got inside. She started then engine, put both her hands on the steering wheel, and stared straight ahead.

Then she took a deep breath, put the car in drive, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading in the opposite direction of the car that had taken Logan.

She had work to do.

_ Forgive and forget, people say, but neither of those have come particularly easy for me. Live the life that I’ve lived, and you’ll realize soon enough that forgiveness doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t stop the hurt, and it doesn’t stop people from leaving you. I’ve made my peace with that. _

_ But what I’ve learned, and what I believe, is that when possible, those who love you most will find a way to make it up to you. And most importantly, they’ll always find a way to come back into your life. _

_ And while I may not be good at forgiving, and anyone who’s ever met me knows I don’t know how to forget, what I’m slowly learning is this: _

_ I will figure out a way to let them make it up to me. _

_ And if I can’t wait until they make it back to me, I will figure out a way to find them. _

_ Or at the very least, I can try. _


End file.
